Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Marvel-characters!

AN: I'm so sorry for the late update! School has kept me busy unfortunately. But here is the next update and I hope you will enjoy it! If you are anxious to find out just what Tony did to Loki in the last chapter, then read on and find out!

Thanks for sticking with this story.

~ We Might Fall ~

Chapter 7

July 18th, Thursday

Noise surrounded him – people talking, nurses and doctors rushing by, machines beeping – but Thor heard none of it, nor did he care to listen. He stared straight ahead as he sat in one of those miserable, uncomfortable chairs in the white hall with Steve perched beside him, his concerned gaze focused on Thor, but Thor paid him no attention. He let his mind become consumed by the brightness of the hospital walls, desperately trying to erase the image from his mind of Loki as he lay too still in his hospital bed, his hand stained with Stark's blood.

With all of his heart, Thor wanted to believe that the nightmare had finally ended with Stark's death, but he didn't dare to believe so. He was afraid he would only have his heart broken, to hear a doctor say those dreadful few words. Your brother is dead. Would he hear that soon? Would they come to him and look at him with honest sorrow and hateful pity in their eyes? Would there even be need to say those words for Thor to understand?

He should call his mother and father to tell them what had happened, but at the moment, Thor simply couldn't face their panic and concern and pain and hysteria. Dealing with his own was enough. Besides, they would have questions he couldn't answer right now – questions he desperately needed answered.

And then he came – a man in a white coat. He cleared his throat, Thor's dolorous eyes snapping up to meet the doctor's gaze, hoping to already find some answers written in it. He watched as the doctor offered him a polite and kind smile, and Thor wanted to curse him for it, because shit, what did that mean? Was it supposed to reassure him that everything was okay, that Loki lived? Or was he already apologizing for the grievous news he was about to announce?

"Your brother is going to be okay."

Thor let out a heavy, shaky breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Tension slipped away from him, his muscles relaxing. He dropped his head forward, his blond hair falling before his features, shielding him from preying eyes. He pressed his hands against his face because no, he didn't want anyone to see the tears streaming down his cheeks. He just needed a moment for himself, the opportunity to gather his thoughts and let all emotions drain away from him – just one moment to catch his breath.

"And Stark?" He asked after a long silence. He straightened his back, his hands falling to his lap. Thinking about that bastard made anger surge through him, made his hands form tight fists until he felt his nails dig into his skin. "He's dead, right?"

The doctor nodded once. "Yes, Mr. Stark is dead."

"What did he do to my brother?" Thor realized how hostile he sounded, but he didn't care and he knew the doctor didn't mind. Did he not have the right to be angry after all? A part of him even felt frustrated that Stark had died because now he would never be trialed for his crimes. The families of his victims would never see him in court nor get some kind of explanation or closure. "Why wasn't Loki breathing anymore?"

The doctor took a seat next to Thor, his gaze momentarily shifting between Thor and Steve who hadn't said a word yet and who clearly wasn't planning to either. Everything about the man spoke of professionalism. "For days now, we have been waiting for your brother to wake," he started to explain. He used a soft, soothing voice. "We just didn't know when exactly that would happen. That is why we were already administering pain medication, more specifically, due to the nature of his injury, we were giving him a small dosage of morphine." The doctor sighed then. "Tony Stark managed to tamper with the machine that regulates the morphine dose," he said regretfully. "Your brother received an overdose which causes asphyxia, but we were able to quickly administer Naloxone which counteracts the morphine's effects. We expect him to make a full recovery."

Thor nodded before rubbing a hand over his tired face. He leaned back into the seat, taking a moment to regain his composure, the sudden silence between the three of them helping him calm down. Everything was going to be okay. It was a thought that kept echoing through his mind, a thought that he sorely needed.

"Can I see him?" He finally asked. He had to see him. He had to see with his own eyes that Loki was still there, that he still lived, that one day he would open his eyes and perhaps smile at him. Thor couldn't wait to see Loki smile again.

The doctor nodded. "Of course."

Thor didn't need to know more.

July 23e, Tuesday

Thor couldn't remember the last time he'd slept for more than five hours a night, just like he couldn't remember the last time where he hadn't jolted awake, a nightmare having unsettled him, images of Loki bleeding and dying continuously repeating in his mind. But even with Tony Stark dead and the doctors continuously reassuring him that his brother was fine, that it was just a matter of time before he would wake, Thor still felt anxious and tense and nervous. He recalled Steve mentioning something about post-traumatic stress disorder, but frankly, that idea was entirely absurd. Was he not allowed to process the past few days in his own personal way and in his own time?

His nightmare had started over two weeks ago when he had come home to find that a delusional and crazy man – Tony fucking Stark – had broken into his home and held a knife to his brother's throat, threatening, no, promising to destroy their lives. Every small detail of that evening lay ever so clearly in his mind even though it seemed to have happened ages ago.

He should go home and crawl into bed. He should really try and get some proper sleep – he was drifting in and out of consciousness anyway – but he stubbornly refused to leave his brother's bedside out of the some strange, irrational notion that he still had to protect him, no matter how dead Tony Stark was. He had left Loki once, right here in the hospital, and he had almost died a second time. Like hell was he going to leave him again!

Yet, he couldn't deny the exhausted state of his body and mind. He didn't even know what time of the day it was, only that it was getting late and visiting hours were long over. But no nurses stopped by, asking him to leave, not anymore. Everyone knew it would be pointless, because God knows they tried enough.

He shifted in his chair, looking for a better position to spend the night in, but the hardness of the wooden chair did nothing to help, no matter how many pillows he stuffed behind his back. He sighed and let his head fall back as he pulled his blanket a little higher up his chest – a kindness from the nurses who figured that if they couldn't get him to leave, they might as well try and make his stay a little more comfortable. For a moment he stared up at the ceiling, and then his eyes fluttered shut, nothing but darkness and silence surrounding him. The unease never left, however, and no matter how much Thor wanted to sleep, he just couldn't find that moment of bliss.

So maybe he would barely catch any sleep tonight, but he vowed to go home tomorrow morning once his parents came to sit with Loki. He had to see Jane anyway – he really missed her – and maybe after she had gone off to work, he could try and take a nap, though he doubted that would work. He was exhausted and on the verge of having a complete breakdown, but none of that changed the fact that he simply couldn't sleep.

But finally, after minutes of forcing himself to think about nothing at all, his breathing started to even out and tension slowly slipped away from his muscles. He could feel sleep claiming him, pulling him under, but already images of Stark slitting Loki's throat floated before his eyes, making Thor wince and squeeze his eyes tightly shut until he saw an explosion of a thousand little stars. He just wanted a dreamless night – for once he wanted to escape from-

A groan.

Blue eyes snapped wide open.

Thor turned his head to the side, his gaze taking in Loki's form, studying every detail, but Loki lay motionless. Had he imagined that sound? Had he been dreaming or was he finally going mad because of sleep deprivation? He let out a slow breath, cursing himself for getting worked up over nothing when he watched Loki's features suddenly contort with discomfort, unease, and possibly, pain.

"Loki?"

With uncontrolled movements, Loki brought his right hand to his throat, his fingers feeling the white bandage wrapped around it, but his eyes remained closed. A frown creased his brow while his lips parted as he drew in a sharp breath. Thor quickly pushed his blanket aside and rushed closer to Loki's bedside. Very carefully as not to startle him, he placed his hand on top of Loki's – the one that still lay next to his body – and watched as finally, finally Loki's eyes open.

"Hi there," Thor said. Why were there already tears in his eyes? All thoughts of exhaustion were gone, though. In fact, he felt new energy surge through his body, driving him onward, making him feel lively and spirited. He had been waiting for this moment for so long, but now it was here and he finally saw those familiar green eyes again and great, now those tears were actually rolling down his cheeks.

This was his proof – his brother was alive and he was fine.

Loki stared at him for a moment, listless green eyes revealing confusion and disorientation. His hand fell away from his neck, coming to rest on top of his chest as he swallowed heavily, or at least, he tried to. Instead, he began to cough and he squeezed his eyes shut. Thor hurried to the small table in the corner of the room, grabbing a plastic cup and filling it with fresh, cool water. He used the opportunity to wipe away his tears and calm down.

He quickly returned to his brother's side and attentively slipped a hand underneath Loki's head, lifting it up a bit. Loki eagerly drank the water, his features relaxing at once. Thor lowered his head onto the soft pillow again and hastily put the plastic cup aside.

Gazing at his brother, seeing him awake and well, made him smile.

"Hi." Loki's voice sounded hoarse and barely audibly, but it was the best sound Thor had heard in days.

His smile only grew and he had to control himself to not wrap his arms around his brother and hug him tightly, but he didn't think Loki would like that right now. Hell, he might just break him, because he looked so thin and fragile.

"It's good to see you awake," he said softly, watching Loki smile back at him. It didn't reach his eyes, though. He simply looked too drained and exhausted which was strange considering he'd slept for days. "How are you feeling?"

Loki tried to push himself into a sitting position, only to wince and entirely give up his attempt. Thor quickly repositioned his pillow to make sure he lay as comfortable as possible. Loki sighed heavily, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he focused on Thor once again, though it seemed to demand a lot of energy from him. "I'm tired," he admitted. "And sore."

"Are you in pain?"

"No," Loki croaked, shaking his head.

Thor reached forward, brushing aside some of Loki's raven hair, finding that Loki leaned into his touch. Green eyes fell shut then, and this time, they remained that way. He still looked so terribly pale and the dark circles around his eyes only proved how exhausted he really was.

"You should sleep now," Thor told him. It actually pained him to say those words, because he really didn't want this moment to end. He wanted to talk to Loki, make sure he was okay, and discover just how much he still remembered. He wanted to tell him that he was fine now, that Stark was dead, and that he was sorry he couldn't protect him from this madness.

But instead he kept running his fingers through his brother's hair, soothing him, calming him, telling him everything was okay. Thor couldn't remember the last time he'd shown him this much affection and that thought frightened him. What if Loki had died and he had never told him he loved him? What if he had never had the chance to spend time with him again? What if-

No. Everything was fine. Such thoughts were pointless.

"Thor?" Loki asked softly, sounding already faraway.

"Yes?"

"Will you leave?"

The question shocked him and he didn't know why. He lowered his hand until it rest on top of Loki's, then curled his fingers around his hand and squeezed. "No, Loki," he said, his voice holding a promise. "I'm going to be right here when you wake."

"…okay."

July 24th, Wednesday

Tapping his fingers against his thigh, Thor impatiently waited for the phone call to connect. Since the use of cellphones was forbidden inside the hospital, he'd had no other choice but to walk all the way to the nurses' station to use a landline which subsequently meant he had been forced to leave his brother's bedside. He truly hoped Loki wouldn't wake now that he'd left him for a moment, because he had promised to be there when he'd wake and he truly didn't want to break that promise.

"Hello?" A soft and kind voice answered.

A sigh of relief escaped Thor's lips, because hearing her voice always made him feel better. "Hi, Mom!" He sounded too loud and raucous, and he knew he was giving Frigga a minor heart attack at eight in the morning, but he just couldn't control the excitement and happiness he felt right now. Still, he cursed himself for his inconsideration, because that excitement and happiness might as well sound like panic and fear over the phone.

"Thor, what's going on?" Fright rang clearly in Frigga's voice which wasn't unsurprising. Every phone call she had received lately was to tell her of bad news. "Is everything okay? Is it Loki?"

"He woke up, Mom," Thor calmly explained. "Last night, he opened his eyes."

Silence.

Then a choked sob.

"He woke?" Her voice sounded like it was just about ready to shatter into a million pieces, but there lay undeniable elation and relief in it. Thor couldn't stop himself from grinning. "Is he – is he okay? Did he say anything?"

"He's okay," he assured her, making sure he continued sounding calm. He ran a hand through his hair and inhaled sharply, hoping that that would stop him from bursting into tears. Hearing his mother cry – even though she was crying of happiness – made his chest tighten painfully. "He didn't say much, but he's okay, Mom, and he's going to be fine."

"Your father and I are coming to the hospital," Frigga said. "Right now."

"Of course," Thor replied, still smiling. "I hadn't expected it any other way."